


Heading Home in Reverse

by helloshepard



Series: Hurricanes on Paper [1]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cybernetics, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rare Pairings, Sensuality, Sloppy Makeouts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-24 14:37:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9763886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloshepard/pseuds/helloshepard
Summary: Post-Dark of the Moon. Dylan, Soundwave, and Laserbeak begin the next phase of their lives: survival.





	1. Down to the River

Dylan Gould’s throat burned.

The metal against his back was smooth and cold, but his throat was searing and his head ached. As if he’d been drinking boiling water mixed with gasoline.

Taking slow breaths, he tried to concentrate, tried to figure out where he was _without_ opening his eyes. His hands weren’t bound. Not a prisoner. But he was certain that under the thin blanket covering his torso, he had no clothes on. Hospital. Maybe. While the voices were unfamiliar, the names were not, and the whir of a Cybertronian transforming to his left provided part of the answer.

_“Flatline.”_

“Deadlock. Starscream. Laserbeak.” This was either a patently brilliant interrogation strategy, or he was among ‘allies’.

Dylan opened his eyes.

They were in a warehouse. Obviously condemned, it had likely escaped the battle by virtue of being in the outskirts of Chicago. Blood-red rust painted the walls and ceilings, and Starscream was grinding a foot into what looked like an abandoned bird’s nest.

Perhaps he wasn’t even _in_ Chicago any longer.

“Report.”

“All is well, considering. No-one is out of the Pit yet but if they were planning on going, they would’ve gone.”

“Reassuring. When will we be out of here?”

 _“You,_ Deadlock, are free to leave anytime. The rest will be here—”

A black shadow dropped onto Dylan’s chest. He yelped, coughing as the air was knocked out of his burned lungs. For a second, his vision went black and he clutched his head, unable to shake the feeling it was about to split open—or a piece of his skull was about to slough off. Groaning, he struggled to sit up as Laserbeak folded his wings.

“Still hurt.” With a claw, Laserbeak prodded Dylan’s shoulder. “Lie back down. Flatline will take my head off again if you die.”

“Not…” Dylan coughed, cringing as the pain in his throat only increased. “Funny.”

Laserbeak huffed.

“Got you clothes. Food. For later.” The Decepticon sidestepped a bruise Dylan hadn’t even noticed and placed his considerable weight on the human’s shoulders. “Go back to rest.”

Dylan shook his head, then stopped as the pain in his head spiked again.

“No. I—” He winced as he swallowed, then rubbed his throat. “Rested enough.”

Laserbeak rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say, human.”

Dylan sighed, meeting Laserbeak’s carefully blank stare with his own guarded eyes.

“What’s the date?”

“Ten days after you hit the pillar.”

Dylan frowned. Already it had been more than a week—but now Dylan could not shake the feeling he was living on borrowed time. Laserbeak whirred and nipped at Dylan’s fingers.

Unable to resist, Dylan gave in and rubbed the symbiont’s neck plating. Laserbeak sighed contentedly, leaning forward to have the uninjured parts of his neck rubbed.After a moment, Dylan grimaced, determined to get the most important question out of the way.

“Soundwave? Is he…?”

Laserbeak tensed, optics flashing a dangerous red.

“Sedated.”

It was a bigger relief than he thought it would be. Dylan slumped back, wincing as his shoulders hit the metal table.

“He’ll live?”

Laserbeak hopping off the table was his only answer.

“Sleep again. Flatline will explain in the morning.”

“Explain? Laserbeak—”

Dylan coughed as Laserbeak’s wings kicked up dust, then flinched as he felt something hot and wet move up his throat. He tried to swallow it back but his stomach rolled instead and he only coughed again, retching all over the floor. It was mostly liquid—probably whatever human medical supplies the Decepticons had been pumping into him. But he couldn’t mistake that shining blue for anything else.

_“Laserbeak!”_

* * *

“Sedated?”

“Yes. I managed to repair a little more in the meantime. Including his helm.”

Something prodded Dylan’s shoulder. Reflexively, he swore and shoved it away, but it only poked his head again, forcing hardened metal against soft flesh. Groaning, he opened his eyes, anticipating _maybe_ Laserbeak and the medic. Instead, the whole gang was there: Laserbeak, Flatline, Starscream, and the Decepticon who must be Deadlock. Acting on instincts honed by years of doing business with Decepticons, Dylan grinned, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling of _dread_ in the pit of his stomach.

“Tough crowd.”

Laserbeak narrowed his optics.

_“Funny.”_

Flatline—probably—was examining a datapad.

“Gould, Dylan H. Thirty-nine years old. Decepticon…former Decepticon liaison. Injured at the battle of Chicago. Injuries included: severe burns, fractured skull, fractured kneecap, multiple lacerations, shock. Treatment included: infusions of human medical fluids, Cybertonium, and diluted Energon.”

Dylan blinked. He had understood _maybe_ half of those words, one quarter when they were applied to him.

“What?”

As if he hadn’t heard, Flatline continued.

“Patient is responding well to treatment. Prognosis is good. Possible problems: lack of Energon, Cybertonium infections, infections.”

_“What?”_

Flatline put down his datapad and leaned over, close enough that Dylan could smell the reused oil that had been splashed into the Decepticon’s tanks.

“Have you gone deaf?”

“N-no. Of course not. I’m up. I heard you. But—” Dylan swallowed. “Energon? Cyber—Cyber what?”

“Cybertonium. The metal that forms our physical bodies.” Flatline tapped Dylan’s head. Dylan flinched, trying to grab the blanket and move back without falling off the table. “There is plenty of it now. Yours came from Soundwave.”   

Dylan’s stomach dropped.

“Soundwave. He’s…?”

Flatline leaned forward and sighed, blasting Dylan with a gust of uncomfortably hot air.

 _“Recovering._ Terribly sad he couldn’t be here, but we didn’t exactly _ask_ him, so...”

Starscream snorted. Dylan glared.

“He should be online within the hour.”

Without further ado, Flatline put the datapad down and strode off, heels clicking against the concrete. Deadlock followed without a word, and Dylan couldn’t help but wonder what the other Decepticon thought about all this.  

Starscream squinted.

“You are a lucky one, Gould.”

“Huh?”

“Normally patients of Flatline have many, _many_ more additions.” Starscream grinned, crimson eyes gleaming. “Perhaps if you lose value in Soundwave’s optics, Flatline will volunteer to keep you.”

“Uh. No thanks. I’m good where I am.”

Scoffing, the Seeker nodded at Laserbeak and turned away. Laserbeak poked Dylan’s chest. Dylan winced, shoving away the Decepticon’s questioning wing.

“Get dressed. Unless you are adopting human nakedness now.”

Dylan groaned and reached for the pile of clothes at the foot of the table. The boxers were the easiest part of the process. Dylan tried not to look too hard at his knee. Bits of familiar silver poked out through the skin, and the whole thing felt far too warm to be part of his body. Cringing, Dylan reached back to touch his shoulders. Also too warm.

Pulling the boxers on, he glanced at Laserbeak. The Decepticon was grooming, carefully avoiding the fresh welds at the base of his head. New, unwanted holes were obvious in his wings, and his plating was charred. Dylan turned away and grabbed the shirt. It was soft. Quality. One of his. Immediately, he felt a rush of fondness for Laserbeak.

He winced, sucking a quick breath of air through his teeth as pain shot through his back when he tried to put the shirt on. Laserbeak stopped grooming and watched, perhaps curious. Dylan changed tactics, managing to wiggle one arm through the sleeve, before just sitting, completely disheartened. His head ached—there was probably Cybertonium in his head too. Laserbeak nudging a bruise got his attention. The symbiont had gotten ahold of his other sleeve and dragged it to his side and held it, ready and waiting. Grinning, Dylan pushed his arm through.

“Thanks.”

Annoyed, Laserbeak hissed.

“Hurry up.”

Energized, Dylan pulled on the pants with minimal pain, stopping only when his leg started to ache. It faded after a moment, and he suspected that was going to be a constant thing from now on. When he was finished, he looked at Laserbeak.

“Well?” Laserbeak squinted. “Stand up. Let’s _go.”_

Dylan nodded, bracing his arms. Kneeling was first—his knee felt like it was about to give out when he put weight on it, but it didn’t. He could _feel_ the metal working, melding to the shape it needed to be as he shifted positions. Laserbeak sniffed.

“Good.”

Walking awkwardly, Laserbeak led the way. Dylan shuffled behind him, wishing Flatline had thought to provide a wheelchair. Though it felt like it took hours, the warehouse wasn’t large. Dylan could hear the other Decepticons talking through the walls.The halls were deserted, but he would have to be blind not to see the Energon streaked walls and coolant drying on the floor. Dylan wasn’t sure what else he expected. Had no one else really survived?

“Sedatives have been rationed.” Laserbeak said. “It is…tapering off.”

He’d been preparing for the worst.

This…wasn’t the worst, exactly, but it was far from the best.

Soundwave was slumped in the corner. Flatline had clearly been working: Energon dripped from patched wounds, and dazed optics were a clear indication the Decepticon was drugged. Despite what Laserbeak said, Dylan hoped that if Soundwave felt anywhere as bad as he was feeling, the drugs wouldn’t wear off anytime soon.

“Soundwave?”

A claw twitched. Dylan stepped forward. Laserbeak skittered into Soundwave’s lap, hissing immediately turning to protective grumbling. He walked forward until he was touching Soundwave’s servo. Dylan knelt, then sat, afraid his knees would give out if he used them one moment longer. Gently, he ran his hand across Soundwave’s, fingers brushing against charred plating and dried Energon.

“Soundwave.”

Soundwave blinked. It was a slow blink. Unfocused. Painfully different from the Decepticon’s usual alert nature. Dylan wasn’t sure what kind of response he had expected, but he had expected _something._ He wracked his exhausted brain, trying to recall a time—any time—Soundwave had been so unresponsive, so…vulnerable.

Dylan didn’t like it.

“We lost.” Dylan finally said. He was fully aware of Laserbeak watching him, four pinpricks of red light shining through the room’s haze. “But, ah, I’m still here. And I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

Dylan leaned back against the wall, stretching out his legs and resting his hand on Soundwave’s wrist. Though the sound was compounded by injuries and drugs, Dylan could clearly hear Soundwave’s ‘breathing’—his engine turning over at a constant, quiet rate. Carly had gotten it wrong. Soundwave was quiet.

Especially now.

Dylan let his eyes close, and spared a second to wonder what had happened to Carly—and by extension, Sam. Their gaudy Autobot guardian had likely gotten them out of the city before any real military arrived—a problem he, Soundwave, and Laserbeak would have to contend with when the time came.

 _If_ the time came.

On that note, Dylan leaned his head against Soundwave’s forearm and drifted off into a restless sleep.


	2. Souls in Revelry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combined chapters 1-2 due to length and pacing issues, so here is a new chapter.

Dylan woke to Laserbeak dropping a bag of McDonald’s in his lap. Normally, he would have turned up his nose at the thought of eating a cheap hamburger, soggy fries, and a lukewarm, sugar-laden drink, but the smell was… _heavenly._ Dylan mumbled his thanks to the Decepticon before tearing into the meal. Internally, he cringed as he licked his ketchup-stained fingers, but he was _hungry._  

Laserbeak perched on Soundwave’s knee and watched Dylan eat. Dylan tried to ignore the avian Decepticon as long as he could, but after his initial burst of hunger had been sated, he put the remains of the burger down and stared back.

“We need to move out,” Laserbeak said. “Your military will reach this building in twenty-four Earth hours. They are remarkably _efficient_ , once an area has been cleared of all viable threats.”

They both looked up at Soundwave, who still sat motionless above them.

 “Where to?”

Laserbeak hopped off Soundwave’s knee and made a motion that approximated a human shrug.

“Anywhere you still have contacts.” Laserbeak narrowed his optics, likely consulting an internal map. “Southern Illinois, New York—”

“Detroit.”

Dylan jumped at the grating, broken, voice.

Soundwave was online—barely. Laserbeak chattered excitedly, pushing past the remains of Dylan’s breakfast to jump onto Soundwave’s shoulder. Slowly, Soundwave leaned into Laserbeak’s insistent touches. Dylan leaned back against the wall, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

Soundwave drew his legs up to his chest after a moment, and Dylan realized belatedly that the Decepticon was going to try and stand up. His hands gripped the floor for support, and Dylan would be blind not to see the Decepticon’s arms trembling from the strain. Before Dylan could voice his protest, Soundwave staggered upright, breathing heavily as his legs straightened. Laserbeak nipped Soundwave’s neck and glided down to rest on Dylan’s shoulders. He stumbled briefly under the weight before standing upright.

“I hate to ask, Soundwave, but are you even _okay_ to get to Detroit?”

Soundwave spared the human a glance.

“You will navigate.” Soundwave stumbled once, then straightened and started limping towards the door.

“Soundwave, I—I know _I_ can get to Detroit but can you _transform?”_

Soundwave glared. Laserbeak’s talons gripped his shoulders and Dylan inclined his head.

“Sorry. When do we leave?”

Soundwave was silent. Then:

“What happened to you?”

Dylan flinched, taken aback. He stuttered, trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t take all day to explain. Thankfully, Laserbeak had no such problem.

“Idiot human activated the control pillar. Witwicky threw him into it, and Flatline decided to… _upgrade_ him.”

Despite himself, Dylan felt redness blooming on his neck.

“Thanks, Laserbeak.”

The smaller Decepticon mumbled something unintelligible, tightening his grip on Dylan’s shoulders.

“It’s the truth, Gould.”

Soundwave was still staring.

Dylan summoned all his remaining courage—which granted, was not much—to speak.

“What?”

“You should be dead.” Soundwave said simply.

“Thanks, Soundwave.” Dylan managed, forcing down the fear that bubbled up in his belly. “Really makes me feel great about myself.”

“That you lived speaks well of your abilities.” Soundwave continued. “You may yet survive what is to come.”

“Oh.” Dylan took a moment to digest the half-compliment as Laserbeak chattered excitedly in his ear. “Thanks. I think.”

Soundwave nodded. Dylan shoved what remained of his food into the bag and followed Soundwave out of the warehouse. Soundwave took the time to scoop up the remaining Energon cubes and deposit them in his subspace and started transforming. Dylan stepped back. It was almost painful to watch—slow and agonizing, Soundwave moved down to his knees to complete the process. Dylan flinched as fresh welds broke and wept Energon and coolant, leaving Soundwave’s altmode streaked with blue.

“Might need to get you cleaned up before we hit the road.” Dylan said. “The feds are gonna be looking for cars that look like…well, like that.”

Dylan opened the door for Laserbeak, and the symbiont slid in quickly, perching carefully on the dashboard. Dylan could see the Decepticon’s mouth moving, but had no idea what Laserbeak was saying to his master. Slowly, Dylan made his way to the side of the warehouse. Thankfully, the hose still worked and before long, he was spraying off Soundwave’s exterior. Before he could get too carried away with cleaning, Dylan stopped—it wouldn’t do to have a shining car leaving Chicago right now. They needed to be inconspicuous.

Exhausted, Dylan slipped into the driver’s seat. Sleep was the only thing on his mind, but Laserbeak prodded his head insistently.

_“Drive.”_

Dylan groaned.

As soon as they approached the first roadblock, Laserbeak changed form, shifting from his avian mode to a worn black laptop. Dylan spared the altmode a glance before being waved through. His lack of identification proved to be a problem at the second roadblock, but a simple story about his apartment being destroyed by a huge yellow robot got him waved through.

The final roadblock was the worst.

Dylan had been unsure how aware Soundwave was, but the Decepticon’s engine hitching at the sight of Bumblebee standing guard was proof enough Soundwave was cognizant of his surroundings. Not willing to test the other Cybertronian’s super-hearing, Dylan only gripped the steering wheel a little harder. Dylan kept his eyes down. On his part, Bumblebee’s focus appeared to be on making sure traffic moved smoothly out of the city—and Dylan had no intention of standing out.

As soon as they were out of the city, Laserbeak transformed back into his root mode. Dylan had hoped for some conversation, no matter how one-sided, but the Decepticon simply rolled into the passenger seat and fell asleep.

The rest of the drive was quiet.

As much as Soundwave had told Dylan he would be responsible for driving, whenever Dylan began drifting off and the wheels started hitting the rumble strips, Soundwave guided them back into the middle of the lane. Dylan resisted the urge to pull over and sleep, knowing full well a ten-minute nap was not going to happen today.

Halfway through Indiana, Soundwave pulled over at a not-too seedy motel. Dylan looked up at it with narrowed eyes, not daring to hope their day would get cut short with the promise of sleep.

 “A room.” Soundwave said. “Registered in your name.”

“Hate to say it, Soundwave, but I need an I.D. to get into a hotel.”

Laserbeak cackled. From his subspace, the Decepticon produced Dylan’s wallet and—Dylan nearly fainted—his checkbook.

“That would’ve been convenient at the roadblock.”

Laserbeak shook his head.

“Gets you out safer. Harder to detect.”

Dylan swiped the wallet from Laserbeak’s beak.

“Until Witwicky raises the alarm of: oh! I’m not dead!”

 “We will ensure that does not happen.” Soundwave said. “Go to your room.”

Dylan snorted.

“Yes, mom.”

“‘Mom’?”

“Never mind.” Dylan slid out of the car. “Where are you going?”

“Parking lot.” Soundwave said, as if that were the most natural thing in the world.

“Ah. All right.” Dylan turned to Laserbeak. “You coming?”

The Decepticon shrugged before transforming again, this time into a cell phone. Dylan slid the phone into his pocket, thankful Laserbeak had refrained from choosing to be a printer or a television. Thankfully, it seemed Dylan was not the first Chicago refugee the bellhop had seen that day. Dylan received an understanding nod at the lack of luggage and was quickly escorted to his room. Once the bellhop had been tipped and sent on his way, Dylan pulled the phone out of his pocket before ungracefully flopping onto the bed. He heard Laserbeak transform but paid the Decepticon no mind.

“What are you doing?” Laserbeak asked.

“Going to sleep.”

“You need to work.” The Decepticon prodded Dylan with one clawed foot. Annoyed, Dylan shoved him off. “Change your name.”

“Tomorrow.” Already his eyelids felt heavier than bricks.

Laserbeak sighed. Dylan felt the Decepticon settle beside him, and briefly wondered if they really had made it out safely. For the moment, Dylan reasoned, they had.

And that was enough. That _had_ to be enough.


	3. Payoff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential cw for PDA (of the sensual/making out kind) in the semi-beginning of the chapter. Additionally, working on not having such abrupt endings :/
> 
> Any comments and feedback is greatly appreciated!

When he woke, Laserbeak had moved to perch on the television.

The Decepticon’s optics were trained on the curtained window.

Keeping watch, Dylan reasoned. But of what, he had no idea.

“What is it?”

Laserbeak hissed, claws tightening against thin plastic and tempered glass.

“They’re coming.”

Dylan’s throat tightened.

“Who?”

“Your government. Ten minutes away. Witwicky must have raised an alarm.”

Dylan sat up abruptly and stopped just as quickly, startled by the pain in his head.

“I told you.” Dylan stumbled out of bed. “Not that I’m not flattered and all, being on the FBI’s Most Wanted, but—”

“Shut it.” Laserbeak jumped onto Dylan’s shoulders. “Get back to Soundwave. We’re leaving.”

Unable to argue with that, Dylan picked up what little he had brought into the room, pocketing his wallet and checkbook and opening his jacket for Laserbeak to slide in. 

He slipped into the elevator, trying not to hold his breath. It was nearly empty, save for a man in a suit who stared at him like he had the plague. Dylan glanced down at himself. Two weeks ago, Dylan would have been wearing that exact same suit as the other man, giving himself that exact same semi-disgusted, semi-pitying expression.

Dylan nodded. The businessman nodded back.

Finally, the elevator landed on the bottom level. Dylan practically jumped out, carefully scanning his surroundings for police, then turned his attention to finding Soundwave.

There. Soundwave was parked at the end. Dylan walked quickly to the end of the row, reached down to open the door, and pulled up with perhaps slightly more force than necessary.

It was locked.

“The—”

In his mind’s eye, Dylan imagined a parade of black SUVs barreling towards the motel at that very moment, filled with SWAT teams and FBI Agents eagerly waiting to arrest him or kill him—whichever was easier.

Dylan pulled again. The door opened, and he sighed, relieved. He slid into the driver’s seat, waiting for Soundwave to start the engine, when a hand touched his own.

Dylan yelped.

Soundwave—or Soundwave’s holoform—stared back at him balefully.

“The—the elevator.” Dylan stuttered. “That was you.”

“Ensuring you made it here in a timely manner was paramount.”

“Well.” Dylan swallowed, glad he had only consumed half a cup of liquid in the last three days. “Uh. Good plan. Obviously, it worked. Shall we go?”

“No.” Soundwave said. “They are already here. Your room is being searched.”

Dylan leaned back, resisting the urge to give completely into panic mode. He counted three deep breaths, then turned back to Soundwave.

“What do we do?”

“Wait here.” Soundwave mimicked Dylan, leaning back in his seat. “You look suspicious by yourself.”

“I’m aware of that—as if _you_ don’t.” Dylan mumbled, stealing a half-glance at Soundwave. “Where’d you pick up that new form?”

“Compiling statistical studies on what humans around your Earth perceive to be the most financially successful humans, I created a—” Soundwave stopped mid-sentence, tilting his head towards the elevator. “They are coming.”

Dylan’s gut dropped. Finances, he could explain away, his presence in Chicago was more than easy, but silver metal in his body, barely hidden by his hair and clothes? Not going to happen. He resisted the urge to try to crawl under the dashboard.

Soundwave leaned forward, apparently more interested in listening to the government than hiding him.

“Soundwave.”

“Mm.”

“Soundwave. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have a body that can vanish at will. So…can we…I don’t know, leave?!”

“Not until they do.” The Decepticon put his knees against the console.

“What are we going to do in the meantime—when they come strolling down this aisle looking for us—for me?”

“Calm down.”

Despite his lack of super-hearing, Dylan heard voices getting closer. He tried to lean forward, to stare out the window to see his imminent demise, but his view was blocked by Soundwave, who had taken it upon himself to straddle him.

“Soundwave what are you doing?”

Soundwave leaned forward, and Dylan would have been blind not to see the glint in the Decepticon’s eye.

“Protecting my liaison.”

With an uncomfortable lurch, the driver’s seat reclined to its maximum level. Dylan’s forehead knocked against Soundwave’s. Before he could yell at the Decepticon, Soundwave’s mouth was on his, effectively smothering any protests Dylan could conjure up.

Distantly, Dylan heard the voices coming down the aisle. His heart dropped and he shut his eyes tight, willing himself not to be recognized, but Soundwave—and chances were Soundwave could hear his heart beating—jammed a leg in between Dylan’s knees, taking a fistful of his shirt collar with one hand and pushing Dylan down with the other.

Dylan’s own hands shook, but whether it was from fear or surprise he was not sure. They remained frozen at his sides until Soundwave let go of his collar in favor of grabbing his shoulders.

Despite himself, despite their situation, despite Soundwave’s obvious lack of knowledge regarding intimacy, Dylan reached up, almost afraid Soundwave would vanish if he was touched.

Dylan pulled him closer. Soundwave obliged, and a beam of light shone in the window for a moment before pulling away.

Dylan broke away from Soundwave’s awkward, straight-mouthed kiss.

“I thought you were dead.” Dylan whispered, immediately regretting the sudden display of emotion, but the look in Soundwave’s eyes told Dylan he knew exactly what Dylan was talking about.

 Or, at least Dylan hoped so.

“You are not getting away from us that easily.” Soundwave replied.

They remained like that a moment longer, nearly frozen in place save for Dylan’s breathing and Soundwave turning his head to listen to the disappearing voices.

Dylan nearly screamed when his jacket began to move of its own accord, but realized quickly enough it was Laserbeak, anxious to get back into root mode.

The other Decepticon seemed unaware—or uncaring (Dylan guessed the latter)—of what had just happened. He waddled past Soundwave’s holoform, and took his place in the passenger’s seat. 

“Is…” Dylan swallowed. “Is it safe to go?”

“Yes.” Soundwave said. “Quickly.”

As soon as the words left the holoform’s mouth, Soundwave was gone. Dylan’s knees shook from the sudden release of weight and pressure, and he struggled to sit up and re-adjust the chair.

Beside him, Laserbeak watched the spectacle with narrowed eyes. Without bothering to warn him, Soundwave started up and began moving towards the exit. 

 

Despite all that had happened in the last three hours, their final leg of the journey to Detroit was uneventful. Laserbeak slept the entire way, protected from prying eyes by the late hours and dim streetlights.

Dylan felt more uncomfortable than ever. The metal in his body was beginning to itch ferociously, and he could not help but think back to the glint in the holoform’s eyes. It was so easy to imagine a similar look in Soundwave’s own eyes, but such a look was hard to come by recently.

He let that thought fester for a moment before pushing it to the back of his mind as they headed up a driveway.

The house had previously belonged to an associate of Dylan’s, who had met his demise several years ago courtesy of Laserbeak. Dylan had recently purchased the house through the expense account, then hidden it as a satellite office of the investment firm.

Ideally, this would give them a week or so before the forensic accountants turned it up.

Soundwave pulled into the driveway. Dylan had never inspected the property before but was immediately impressed by garage: nearly as big as the house, it had obviously been built to satisfy his associate’s alien clientele.

Laserbeak and Dylan slid out as Soundwave transformed. It looked as painful as it had the day before: slow and laborious, a far cry from the usual smooth process.

Soundwave managed to stay on his feet for a moment before sinking to his knees. Laserbeak glided up to his host, talons gripping the scratched metal that comprised Soundwave’s shoulder.

“You need rest. Energon.”

Soundwave mumbled a response, and Laserbeak retorted back in Cybertronian.

The pair continued arguing, becoming increasingly animated, though they struggled to keep their voices low.

Satisfied they seemed preoccupied, Dylan headed to the house.

The house was stocked with everything he _thought_ he might’ve needed six months ago: clothes (mostly suits, of course), an excessive amount of alcohol, luxury furniture.

Dylan rifled through the closet, not daring to look at himself in the mirror. He guessed he had lost at least ten pounds since hitting the pillar, and the obnoxiously itchy metal was still there, still embedded in his skin.

Dylan headed to the shower.

He stood in the shower, watching dirt and dried blood swirl down the drain. Warm water pounded against his skin as he lifted his head up, allowing the water to wash his bruised lips. Briefly, he thought back to Soundwave and the holoform’s lips on his own.

The thought was enough to send warmth shooting throughout his body, prompting Dylan to shut off the water and change far faster than he was used to.

He headed to the garage. Better to check on the Decepticons now and nip any problems in the bud, than wait another hour and have one of them breaking down the door to the house.

Soundwave was asleep.  Energon was still trickling from his chest and neck but the flow seemed to have slowed substantially since just yesterday morning.

Laserbeak landed on his shoulder. Startled, Dylan stumbled under the unexpected weight but recovered quickly, placing one hand on the desk to steady himself.

“Gould.”

“Laserbeak.” Dylan pulled out the chair and sat. Laserbeak slid off his shoulders and onto the desk, scraping his claws against the smooth metal. Dylan bit back an instinctive scolding. “Do you need something?”

“Supplies.” The Decepticon inclined his head towards Soundwave. “Flatline’s repairs will not last forever.” Laserbeak said. “It will not do to have a dead Cybertronian in your home.”

“I won’t let that happen.” Dylan said, more forcefully than he wanted to. “What do you need?”

Laserbeak’s optics glittered.

“The materials have already been purchased and will be delivered tomorrow. I need you to repair him.”

Despite himself and his brave words, Dylan wavered.

“Can’t you do it?”

Laserbeak lifted up his wings innocently.

“I’ve seen you take a humanoid shape before. With fingers.”

“My data files are incomplete.” Laserbeak explained, hopping down from the desk. “I am currently restoring my holomatter avatar and bipedal mode but it will take… _time._ Time Soundwave does not have.”

“Ah. I see.” Dylan looked Laserbeak over, trying to inconspicuously scan the Decepticon for signs of visible damage, but could find nothing other than the new welds at his skull. “You can talk me through it? The whole thing?”

“Of course.” Laserbeak chattered in Dylan’s ear. “That’s what I’m here for!”

“Somehow I doubt that very much.” Dylan muttered. “You need anything else?”

Laserbeak waddled over to Soundwave’s prone form and made himself comfortable, curling up on the Decepticon’s chest.

“Not at all, Gould.”

“Great.” Dylan stood, pleased when his knee didn’t buckle under the weight, and moved to the door. “I’m going to order a pizza. Or Chinese. Something edible.”

Laserbeak’s huffed. “Use cash.” 


	4. Call Off Your Ghost

It didn’t take long for the supplies to arrive. In the meantime, Dylan avoided the garage like the plague, unwilling to encroach upon the two Decepticon’s privacy. Whenever he peered in, Soundwave was asleep, with Laserbeak keeping vigil over his still body.  

Two days later, the doorbell rang.

The box at the door was enormous, dwarfing the man who was signing it over to him. Dylan quickly signed the papers and cut the box open, then began carrying the supplies into the garage. Soundwave was still asleep, but Laserbeak was waiting. Red eyes glittered under fluorescent lights, and silently, he glided to the doorway. To his surprise, Laserbeak did help—as much as a being with no hands to speak of was able. Within half an hour all the supplies were in the garage. Laserbeak perched on the chair.

“Let’s get started.”

“Is he going to get up for this?”

Laserbeak growled, claws scratching at the chair’s back.

“He _can’t._ ” Laserbeak growled again, then muttered something Dylan was certain was unflattering.

“What do you mean?” Dylan was willing to take a wild guess that perhaps he shouldn’t have avoided the garage for three days, but…if Laserbeak really needed help, surely he would have called? “He’s not…”

“Not _dead._ ” Laserbeak glided down to rest on Soundwave’s chest. “Nearly. You need to reset his Spark parameters.” Laserbeak said. “I’ll take his helm.”

The Decepticon waddled over to Soundwave’s head. When Dylan didn’t move, Laserbeak hissed, gesturing to Soundwave’s chest with one wing.

“Unlatch the armor surrounding his chamber. Keep your hand there. Move the other one under his armor.”

“Wait—wait—“Dylan stuttered. “I don’t know how to do this. I can’t—”

_“Gould!”_

Unwilling to argue further, Dylan slid on a pair of gloves on. Beyond him, Soundwave’s body lay still. Smaller than Dylan remembered. Had it only been three days since he last saw the Decepticon?

“Put your hands under his armor. On his chest.” Laserbeak instructed.

It felt just as uncomfortable as he imagined. With only a thin layer of material protecting him from the overheating circuitry, Dylan couldn't hold back a shudder.

“Push down. Hard.”

Dylan shoved his hand down, resisting the instinctive urge to pull away from the abrupt flash of heat that seared through his hand. He spared a quick glance at Laserbeak.

“Harder.”

“I don’t think I—”

_“Harder!”_

Dylan leaned forward, forcing his trembling forearm into the narrow crevice of Soundwave’s armor. With a soft _click,_ Soundwave’s body seemed to unfold before his eyes as his armor peeled away, revealing a shining light encapsulated in silvery metals.

“Overriding safety protocols.” Laserbeak said. “In ten seconds, his shields will go down. We will then have five Earth minutes to divert Spark output to primary functions.”

“Got it,” Dylan said automatically, then stopped. “Except I don’t. You need to talk me through this.”

“And I will. Calm down.” Laserbeak snapped. “His firewalls are offline. Do you see the latch to your left?”

Dylan spotted it—barely bigger than his thumbnail, it rested just above the glowing ‘spark’.

“Yeah.”

“Open it.”

Dylan forced the compartment open, stumbling back when coolant and Energon spilled out.

“Now shut the other ones.”

“Okay.”

Faintly, Dylan was aware that Soundwave’s ‘spark’ seemed to be getting dimmer and dimmer.

“What is this going to do?”

“Cuts off nonessential runtimes: targeting and tracking, pain receptors, sight.”

“Sight?” Dylan wasn’t sure how to feel about pain receptors either, but he was pretty sure _sight_ was essential. “How is that nonessential?”

“He can still hear us.” Laserbeak said. “Stop whining. We only have two minutes left to reseal his armor before the firewalls go back up. Pull that piece armor back over.”

Carefully, Dylan reached over, trying not to dent the malleable grey material under Soundwave’s armor, to grip Soundwave’s outer chestplate and pull it across the interior chamber. It slid on smoothly, though Dylan couldn’t help but notice it was still cracked in several places, just as the interior had been.

“Laserbeak?”

“What?”

“How badly was he hurt?”

“Were it not for his position within the Decepticon high command, Flatline would have repurposed his body for scrap before we found you.”

“Ah.” Dylan swallowed. “Reassuring. Very reassuring.”

“Calm down, Gould.” Laserbeak said. “Neither of us are going anywhere. Though you will be, if you don’t get started on his repairs.”

 The rest of the day passed in nerve-wracking sameness, as Dylan busily cauterized a dozen leaking Energon lines, welded together several shattered pieces of armor, and cleaned out charred circuitry. By the time he was done, his clothes were singed and Soundwave’s armor seemed more charred than ever, but it was done.

Exhausted, Dylan set his tools down on and stood up, stretching stiff muscles. Soundwave was still unconscious, but Laserbeak assured him the only thing they had to do now was wait. Dylan moved to the door. The garage and its occupants were all well and good, but he had noticed a bottle of Rossi’s that had his name on it.

“His feelers are also broken.” Laserbeak added.

Dylan groaned, albeit halfheartedly. “But he needs to be awake for that.”

As if on cue, Soundwave stirred.


	5. Roads Less Traveled

Forgetting his exhaustion, Dylan dropped all notions of returning to the house and rushed to Soundwave’s side. The Decepticon’s optics flickered once, then powered back off. Soundwave raised his head, as if trying to pinpoint the source of the sounds coming from both Dylan and Laserbeak.

“Soundwave?”

“I—” Soundwave started, then stopped, then started again, much quieter. “What happened?”

“You almost died is what happened,” Laserbeak squawked, sounding more annoyed than relieved. Claws scraped against Soundwave’s chest. “The human had to reallocate your Spark output. It’s been—”

“Where are we?”

“The same place we were last night.” Dylan said, vaguely confused. “Michigan.”

“Out of Chicago.”

“Yeah.” Dylan let his hand rest on the side of Soundwave’s head. At the touch, the Decepticon drew away for a second, then relaxed. “We’ve been out here for three days.”

“Good.” Soundwave moved as if he was attempting to sit up, but Laserbeak simply shifted his weight and the other Decepticon was back on the ground, trembling from the effort.

“You need to rest. I will bring Energon.” Laserbeak said smartly. “Wait here with the human.”

Before either of them could protest, Laserbeak had glided out into the night. To his credit, Soundwave did not waste any time with pleasantries, or with complaints.

“You are tired.” Soundwave said.

“A little, yeah, I am.” Dylan admitted. More than he cared to admit. “Laserbeak said your feelers were broken.”

“They short circuited when I was injured.” Soundwave said. “Currently inoperable.”

“Like, you can’t use them at all, or they can’t be fixed? I mean,” Dylan said. “I know you can’t use them but…uh.”

He swallowed his discomfort, a sour taste that went down the back of his throat. “Yeah.”

“The former.” Soundwave clarified. “Repairs will be time consuming.”

Dylan slowly leaned back, allowing his back to rest against Soundwave’s shoulder.

“Can I get you anything?” Despite himself, despite the incessant, niggling voice that told him not to, Dylan ran his fingers across the sharp planes of Soundwave’s head.

On his part, Soundwave did not seem to register the sensation, though Dylan could never be sure with him.

“No.” Soundwave said. “Laserbeak will return shortly.”

Dylan let his hand drop, coming to rest at the base of Soundwave’s neck, and stretched out his legs. His knee still itched and ached, as did his head.  He was unsure if Soundwave had lapsed back into unconsciousness, or if he was simply silent, waiting for Dylan to speak. The silence in the garage felt palpable, as if Dylan could reach out and cut through it with a knife.

Instead of relaxing, Dylan felt himself straining to hear anything at all. Intellectually, he knew that he was on edge—rightly so. Instinctively, he couldn’t help but stiffen as a car drove down the street.

“Relax.” Soundwave said.

Dylan let out a slow, measured breath. He had to choose his response carefully. The wrong words would lead to protracted discussion of his mental state, and he wasn’t in the mood for that.

“Soundwave,” he said. “I don’t know how much you know about human psychology—physiology, whatever—but I’ve undergone a little bit of stress this last week.”

“Acknowledged.” Soundwave said. “I am not sure what that has to do with your present situation.”

Dylan gave up and just sighed.

“We don’t get over trauma as fast as you do—or we don’t compartmentalize as well, I guess.”

Soundwave made a noncommittal noise, halfway between a sigh and a growl. Having said his part, Dylan closed his eyes and tried to think of what they would do next.

They had a few days left here—at most. Then it would likely be off to another safe house, or going off the grid entirely. The latter option seemed more likely to Dylan. Perhaps he was destined to become a cryptid in some large American forest. The idea of roughing it for the rest of his life was as unappealing today as it would have been a month ago, and Dylan let himself feel a rush of anger at Soundwave and himself for not succeeding in their plans.

Dylan felt the air beside him shift, displaced. He jerked upright, blinking and rubbing his eyes as the bright garage lights threw everything out of focus.

A moment later the lights dimmed and settled as his eyes adjusted, and Dylan turned to look at just what had startled him.

The holoform was looking at him as blankly as it always did. Dylan wondered if Soundwave could see in this form or if the holoform was just pretending to see.

“Hey.”

As before, Soundwave wasted no time with pleasantries or small talk.

“Your mind is injured.”

“What?”

Soundwave could see in this form—or he was using some kind of sonic vision like a bat. Dylan cringed at the thought, even as the holoform’s hand reached out to the back of his neck.

“Your mind is injured.” The holoform repeated. “Broken.”

“It’s not—I’m not _broken._ ” Dylan tensed as fingers prodded the base of his skull. “Stressed. There’s a difference, but it’s a common thing to have when I hang around with you.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” Soundwave was not relenting in his examination, and Dylan finally turned, giving Soundwave easier access to his back. “You’re not exactly a yoga teacher, Soundwave. More like a mob boss and—what are you doing?”

As he spoke, the holoform tugged at the back of Dylan’s collar.

“Examining Flatline’s work.” Warm fingertips danced across his spine, and the Cybertonium in Dylan’s skin burned. “Impressive.”

“Glad you think so.” Despite the present circumstances and the fact that he was being poked and prodded by an illusion, Dylan felt himself begin to relax. If he closed his eyes again, he could imagine it was a normal human touching him. A massage, perhaps.

“Does that hurt?” a hand pushed against his upper back.

“No,” Dylan muttered. “It’s itchy.”

“Itchy.” Soundwave echoed.

“Yeah. Can you fix that?”

“Perhaps.” Soundwave was silent for a moment, before continuing. “Take off your shirt.”

At the request, Dylan sat up, then turned to look into the holform’s blank eyes.

“Are you gonna try and make out with me again?”

“What?”

Internally, Dylan cringed.

“Right. You don’t remember.”

“No.” the holform squinted, and Dylan sighed. “I do not. What happened?”

“Exactly what I said.”

“Why?” Soundwave moved closer, but kept his hands away.

“They were coming for us. For me, I guess.” Dylan was well aware his voice was quieter now. “You saved me.”

“By ‘making out’.”

Dylan sighed. “By shielding me, Soundwave.”

“I suppose.”

Soundwave seemed content to drop the subject, and Dylan wasn’t about to bring it back up. He pulled off his shirt, exposing bare skin to the chilly morning air. The holoform’s touch on his back was nearly a not-unwelcome sensation, were it not for the sense Dylan had that this was nothing more than a fascinating science experiment to undertake while otherwise incapacitated.

The holoform’s fingers pressed against the metal embedded in Dylan’s back. It seemed to slither out from under the illusion’s touch, scraping across Dylan’s skin.

“Better?”

“Nope.” Dylan cringed as it danced across a bruise. “Worse.”

“Mm,” the holoform said noncommittally. “I may be able to alter it when my appendages are repaired.”

“Thanks. I guess.” Dylan pulled away from the touch and put his shirt back on. “What exactly is wrong with them? Your feelers?”

The holoform vanished, and Soundwave raised his arm. The thin metallic tendrils spilled out, lying limp on the floor. 

When Soundwave didn’t speak, Dylan reached out to grasp one of the appendages. It was entirely unresponsive to his touch, even as he wrapped it around the palm of his hand. He felt the malleable metal under his fingers, sliding out of his hand with no effort on his part.

“How long?” he asked.

“A few hours.”

Dylan felt himself smile, if only a little.

“How long until we move on, I meant.”

“Mm.” Soundwave’s claws twitched. “A week. Perhaps less.”

“All right.” Dylan said. “A week.”


End file.
